It was Fun
by Swordsoul2000
Summary: After the events of Star Trek Generations, Picard reflects on his brief association with James T Kirk.


It was Fun

After the events of Star Trek Generations, Jean-Luc Picard reflects on his brief association with James T Kirk

I do not own Star Trek, in any of its various forms and guises.

/\\

He hadn't known what to expect when Guinan offered him help to defeat Soran on Veridian III. All he'd known was that he had his duty, and for Picard, duty had never been able to compete with an ordinary life, even the wonderful ordinary life presented to him in the Nexus. He was a Starfleet officer, and duty was what defined him.

He'd taken a double-take when Guinan's shadow deposited him in the reality of his proposed help, a mountain cabin when someone in an old-fashioned Starfleet uniform swung an axe into a pile of logs, no doubt enjoying the exertion, the clean mountain air, the sheer exhilaration at being alive. But it couldn't be… he was _dead!_ Dead for nearly 80 years. He'd read about the man, of course, how could he not, given that his adventures were a staple of every schoolroom in the Federation, and required reading at the Academy.

Picard had even thought about this man several times since assuming command of the _Enterprise_, wondering how he would approve of this new successor to his legacy. Starfleet had changed quite a bit since the first _Enterprise_ had blazed its trail across the quadrant after all. He'd met several members of the man's crew, preserved by fate, or genetics, or simple human stubbornness in the case of Admiral McCoy, but never would he have thought he'd be able to meet James T Kirk face to face outside of recorded log entries.

True to his reputation, the man was stubborn, exasperating, accommodating and intractable by turns. Picard tried appealing to his duty as a Starfleet officer, but Kirk simply laughed in his face. Picard tried to keep his temper, tried to remind himself that Kirk was a hero (even if he wasn't acting like one right now), tried to recall that Kirk had been retired by the time of his apparent death aboard the _Enterprise-B_, he even tried to take into account what Guinan had told him, that the Nexus kept people within it by making sure that they never wanted to leave. It didn't make a dent in his irritation.

Nor did it make any difference in his efforts to recruit Kirk for this one last mission. The man had airily waved off his arguments, saying something about how he'd been off saving the galaxy when Picard's grandfather had still been in diapers. And no matter how true the statement was (something Picard wasn't sure how much he liked, given how much younger the other man appeared compared to Picard himself) that didn't change the fact that he needed backup to stop Soran before he destroyed the Veridian sun, and Kirk was his last best option.

_Now_ he understood why the log entries filed by Kirk's various superiors regarding the man had been filled with such a peculiar mix of praise and rage. Kirk, once set on a particular course of action, was impossible to shift from his chosen position. Perhaps Ambassador Spock had been able to accomplish the feat, thanks to all their years of serving together, but Picard was beginning to suspect that if the Ambassador had any kind of record in that area, it was from picking and choosing when to stand his ground, and when to yield.

But Picard didn't have that kind of luxury. Guinan might have told him that he could choose what time he left the Nexus, but he could _feel_ his time slipping away. There was nothing for it but to follow Kirk when he tried to escape Picard this time, riding away on a horse of all things. Picard hadn't been up on a horse in years.

Eventually, Kirk realized that his surroundings weren't real all on his own, finally coming to accept what Picard had been telling him. And once he'd accepted that truth, he'd changed from a reckless care-for-naught who'd airily dismissed Picard's concerns, into someone Picard could believe was the legendary hero of Starfleet.

When Picard mentioned that he'd been considering retirement, Kirk had been adamant that he refuse. "Don't let them promote you, don't let them transfer you, don't let them do anything that takes you off the bridge of that ship. Because while your there, you can make a difference." Kirk had said, something almost desperate in his voice. Picard had abruptly realized that the first Kirk he'd met, had been Kirk without a purpose, a Kirk who had been grounded and was desperately searching for something meaningful to do. Now he was seeing the real Kirk, one who seeing another captain of the _Enterprise_ about to make all of his mistakes all over again, who was warning the younger man not to make his mistakes. And Picard abruptly knew how to reach him.

He invited Kirk to make a difference again. To do something _real_, instead of existing as he'd done the past eight decades. Rather than ordering Kirk to do his duty, an approach that he belatedly realized had done nothing more than to make Kirk dig in his heels, he coaxed, he invited the other man to do once more what he had done so often from the bridge of the Enterprise. He asked for Kirk's help to save innocent people, to stop a madman from destroying an entire solar system to fulfill his selfish desires.

Kirk gave a half smile and said, "I take it the odds are against us and the situation is grim?" when Picard nodded affirmative he sighed and said, "If Spock were here, he'd tell me I was an irrational, illogical human for wanting to go on a mission like that." He'd grinned then, and Picard was caught by the sheer radiance of the smile. "Sound's like fun."

Moments later they were back on the surface of Veridain III, just as Soran was about to launch his trilithium torpedo at the sun. Soran was understandably startled at their abrupt appearance, but he wasn't so rattled as to lose his single-minded determination to get to the Nexus at all costs. Seemingly cornered between the two of them, he triggered a cloaking device embedded in the launch platform, rendering all efforts to disarm the mechanism useless.

Kirk told Picard to head for the launcher, while he went to get the PADD that controlled the cloak, which Soran had conveniently dropped. Or not so conveniently, given that the PADD was currently wedged on the far end of a catwalk Soran had destroyed in a further attempt to foil their efforts at stopping him.

Picard wanted to go with him, reminded Kirk that they were working together. "We _are_ working together," Kirk reminded him, sending him on his way. When Picard wished Kirk luck, Kirk gave him a priceless gift. It was hurried, distracted, even a little annoyed. That didn't chance the incandescent quality of the words. "Call me Jim."

Kirk accomplished his mission, deactivating the cloak moments before what was left of the catwalk collapsed. Picard didn't have time to watch, having just enough time to engage the locking clamps on the torpedo and retreat to safety before the missile exploded, taking Soran with it. Jubilant at his success, Picard had turned, looked for Kirk, and stilled in horror. Then he was off, searching for the remains of the catwalk, hoping against hope that Kirk was still alive.

He was, just. Trapped against a cliff, crushed by rubble, so badly injured that even if the _Enterprise_ could beam him up immediately, Picard doubted that Kirk could survive.

"Did we do it?" Kirk's whisper floated up from the wreckage entombing him. "Did we make a difference?"

"Yes…yes we did." Picard assured him, trying not to panic. Was this the price for success? Was the life of James T Kirk the toll the universe demanded for averting tragedy? It didn't seem possible…

Kirk was fading faster. "Try to hang on, Jim," Picard entreated, using Kirk's name for the first time. Ever since he'd first seen Kirk in the Nexus, he'd wanted to tell the man about the members of his crew that Picard had met, wanted to tell him how Montgomery Scott, Ambassador Spock and Admiral McCoy were doing. Also he'd wanted to tell them that their beloved captain still lived. Instead, it seemed he would have a different message to send them. One of loss.

A ghost of a smile curved Kirk's lips. "It was…fun." His eyes abruptly lost focus. "Oh my." He was gone.

Shaken, Picard must have spent several minutes simply staring at what had once been the Federation's greatest hero. Then he gathered himself enough to attack the rubble and wreckage pinning Kirk's body to the cliff. It may have taken hours; it may have taken only minutes. Picard didn't care. Once Kirk's body was free, Picard dragged it up to the top of the cliff, before piling a cairn around it. Over it all, Picard gently placed Kirk's Starfleet insignia atop the rocks to mark the grave.

His task complete, Picard stood in silent vigil at the foot of James T Kirk's final resting place; at least, for now. Starfleet would no doubt want to disinter the body for reburial either back at Starfleet Command, or wherever else Kirk's last wishes indicated. There was a pre-warp culture on Veridian IV, and it wouldn't due for them at all to discover the body of an alien on their sister world. But for the moment, Kirk would rest in peace on a world he'd given his life to save from a madman's folly.

A shuttlecraft whirred overhead. Likely from the _Enterprise_, Riker no doubt wondering where he was. Picard had been informed of his ship's demise, of the Duras sisters' attack, and of the fate of the saucer section, crashed half a continent away from his present position. That too would have to be cleaned up, with no trace left to contaminate the development of Veridian IV's reach for the stars. Thankfully, casualties were light, a few bumps and bruises at most, but the _Enterprise_ herself could not be saved.

It was time to say good-bye. Picard snapped off a perfect salute to the silent grave, bowed with all the gallantry left to him by his French heritage, turned, and left. The living needed him now more than the dead. Somehow, Picard knew that James T Kirk would have understood.

/\\

Whoa, that went fast! It's been a long time since a story seemed t write itself. I literally wrote this in two sittings and it only took that long because my writer's group was out of time. I've been slogging away on this _humongous_ story that right now I'm not sure is going to be ready inside of the next _year_ at the very least if ever, and writing this really was a reminder of just how much fun the writing process can be. I'm hyped, the plot bunnies are coming thick and fast, bring it _on!_


End file.
